Beautifully Imperfect
by Starbucks3894
Summary: Jamille request. Please R&R! I have to know if it was horrible! Or you know, you could tell me it was great, and make me burst into tears of joy. Either way.


**This was a request, and my first purely Jamille fic. I know I didn't do a fabulous job on it. I tried and tried but I couldn't get it the way I wanted. Some things can't be perfect. For the person who requested it, you know who you are, and hopefully you think it's alright. :) **

"I SAY sir! YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME IN THAT TONE!"

"Camille, Camille doll? A little bit more reserve? More quietly."

"Oh. OK. I'll try again."

Camille readjusted herself, putting her mind in the frame of the character she was SUPPOSED to be portraying. Namely, a young girl, who has gone utterly mute.

"Try signing? Remember what we practiced," her mother said to her encouragingly from behind the casting director, with her thumbs up.

Camille smiled at her confidently.

"Let's give it another go," the man said, tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe thirty-four will be the charm."

* * *

"Oh, honey. Sometimes roles are like that! You can't be perfect at all of them," her mom said, patting her wealth of dark curls comfortingly. Camille had her face up against the window of the car, watching everything get drenched in rain as they drove by.

"I know. I just really, REALLY wanted that role. It was gonna be my ticket!" she said, struggling to hold back tears. They were on their way home from the tryouts, having been told very harshly that Camille definitely wasn't the one for this role, and being forcefully pushed outside, with little or no endeavors at civility or callback times. It didn't even comfort her that her mom had almost gotten into a fist fight with the rude casting director in question.

Truth was, Camille didn't particularly care about the role. Just another day, another test failed. I guess this one was just one too many. Her limits had been torn down. Forcefully, painfully.

She was tired of feeling like she couldn't do anything. Like she was just a joke to all those people, a cute girl with a bright smile, who was completely hopeless but amusing to watch. She was tired of not being taken seriously.

"What do I do, mom?" she said, quietly.

Her mom looked at her. She saw a downcast girl who has given up all hope. Tired and just sick of it all. The only thing about all of it that was jerking her sadness around was this was her own daughter. Her own beautiful, talented daughter, who was in a creative rut and just couldn't seem to get out of it.

"You keep trying, angel. You keep going. Sometimes, there's just nothing else you can do. With a director like that! That good for nothing, arrogant, son of a-"

"I'm never trying out again!"

"Don't say that! You will! You are too talented to just throw it all away!" her mother cried.

"I'm NOT mom! I'm tired of not getting anything! Of always being told no."

"What about Magic Middle School? You got that one!"

"Mom that was four years ago. I haven't had anything that major since then."

"You will, Millie. Just keep hoping."

A few tears leaked out from under her lashes as she felt the car stop. Her mother looked to her again. Tried to pick out something to say to make her smile.

"You know I love you Camille. I'll always be here with you, no matter what happens, role or no role. Even if you think you can't do it, I know you can. I'll always believe that."

Camille managed a smile through her tears. "Thanks mom. I love you."

"I know, angel." She kissed her on the forehead and squeezed her hand tight for a moment. Then she opened her umbrella and the door, and walked with Camille back inside the Palm Woods.

The first person they came across was Logan. He beamed at her and began walking in her direction. Then he saw her tear stained face and the depressed look in her eyes. He grew apprehensive. But he didn't stop walking.

"Hey Mrs. Rogers. Hey Camille," he said, saying her name a little more gently than usual.

"Hey Logan," her mom said, smiling at him. "How is everything? All you doing OK?"

"Definitely," he replied, but his eyes were still on Camille. She dried her tears quickly.

Her mom, noticing that he wasn't elaborating very much, and sensing that he wished to be with Camille alone for a bit, bowed out with a extraordinarily executed, "Well, I have to go upstairs and see what we got for dinner. Take your time, honey. Logan, come for dinner?"

"Sure," he said smiling. "Oh, but is it cool if I bring a friend? Him and I are alone at the apartment tonight. He'd be lonely," Logan said, laughing a little.

"Absolutely! The more the merrier!" her mom said. "I'll be upstairs, angel, if you need me."

"OK," Camille said, hugging her mom one last time, and watching her walk up the stairs struggling with her umbrella as she went.

Logan slung his arm around her shoulder, and hugged her gently. "Are you OK?"

Camille sniffed a little. "Yes, I guess so. Just... had a bad day."

_"You had a bad day! You're taking one down!" _he sang loudly, and very uncharacteristically off key.

"Logan! Must you always burst into song after everything I say?" she said, smiling weakly.

"It makes you smile," he shrugged. "Worth it to me."

She put her arm around his waist. "Thanks," she said smiling up at him.

"No problem."

They walked over to the elevator.

"Where are we going?" she asked, letting Logan pull her in through the elevator doors.

"Gotta go get James. He's the lonely friend who's alone tonight," Logan said grinning.

"Ah. Poor baby," Camille said, pouting.

"Yes. He's just so pitiful."

"So let's go make his day."

They got to 2J with him talking pretty mindlessly. She knew it was to take her mind off of her sadness. But she couldn't let go of it. It was like she was still getting rained on, a dark cloud hanging over her head.

Without taking his arm from her shoulders he opened the door and walked in. It was very quiet.

"Where is he?" Camille asked.

"He's in the bedroom, probably. Listening to his iPod," Logan said rolling his eyes. "Go get him would ya? I gotta change my shirt." He walked over to the clean laundry heaped on the couch and pulled out a clean t-shirt.

"Kay."

She walked to the bedroom she knew was the guys', and through the door. There was James, sitting quietly on the floor, a pencil behind his ear and a English book on his lap very deep in thought.

"Oh my gosh!" Camille yelled.

James sat up very quickly, sending pencils and paper and book flying across the floor.

"What, what? What happened?" Logan came running towards her. He didn't have his clean shirt on yet. Camille struggled to keep her eyes on James.

"James is STUDYING!" she said, pretending to be dying from shock.

Logan breathed out in relief. "Geez, Camille. I thought for real something was wrong. Though this is a rare occasion. Look at the pencil!" he said, indicating the pencil behind his hair, and laughing. "This is too good! Picture time!" he said, whipping out his phone, and snapping a few pictures, before James could even realize what was happening.

"Hey!" he said, slapping the pencil out of his hair before Logan could get too terribly many. "LOGAN!" he said, jumping to his feet and charging towards Logan.

Except he seemed to have forgotten that Camille was standing directly in the middle of them.

He toppled over onto her. Logan was howling with laughter, but Camille was rather preoccupied with 160 pounds of muscle crushing her every bone.

"AH!" she managed to croak. "James! You... are crushing me!" She tried to take a breath.

"Oh," he said, raising himself a little. A huge breath came flooding into her lungs and she choked on it a little.

He didn't get off.

"James," she said. He was looking at her. Just looking at her. Like he saw something rather interesting in her eyes and didn't want to look anywhere else. She realized his eyes were hazel. Funny, she had always thought they were brown.

He was wearing something that smelled fresh and clean. Probably his laundry detergent. She was trying to keep her mind away from the fact that she and him were almost nose to nose, not to mention the fact that he still hadn't even made a move to get off.

Eventually Logan stopped laughing. "James, bubble space! Get offa her!" he said, pulling James roughly to his feet. James staggered a little.

Camille stood up gingerly, rubbing her thigh where he had fallen particularly hard. Then having a sudden thought, she grabbed Logan's shirt from his hands and put her nose to it, breathing deeply.

It smelled nothing like James'. Smelled more fruity. So it wasn't the detergent. Camille tossed the shirt back to Logan. He caught it, looking at Camille as if she was mentally unsound.

"Um..." Logan said, glancing at his shirt.

"James, are you wearing cologne?" Camille asked, coming up to him and standing on tiptoe to bury her face in the crook of his neck.

"Um... no?" he said. Camille could feel his skin burning.

"Hm. You smell good," she said.

James beamed. "Thanks!" His face was still carrying a little bit of his blushing. She giggled.

"What Camille? I think you're hungry or something," Logan said, FINALLY pulling his shirt over his head. "Lets' get to your house and EAT!"

"We're eating at Camille's house? Sweet! Her mom is like, the best cook EVER!" James said happily.

"I know," Camille said.

"So let's go!" Logan said, running out of the room. Camille laughed and ran after him. James followed at a slightly slower pace.

They got to her apartment quickly. Logan stopped before the door. He didn't open it.

"What are you waiting for?" Camille asked him.

"It's... it's not my house. You should open it," he said, stepping back. Camille laughed.

"You're too kind, sir," she said curtseying. Of course this just made her think of the role she HADN'T gotten. She frowned.

James had come up behind her. She could tell because she could smell him. Which was weird...

She could sense Logan's eyes on her. She fumbled for the handle.

James had been getting closer and closer until she could practically feel his breath on the top of her head. What the heck was up with him?

She turned around quickly, shocked to see that he had been almost touching her. He went flying backwards at her sudden movement.

"Something interesting about the back of my head?" She felt rather fluttery.

Logan coughed.

"No, I guess not," James said quietly.

"What did I ever do..." Logan mumbled.

"DINNER!" Camille shouted quickly, flinging open the door. Logan ran in, and James followed. Camille stayed in the back, just in case.

She was hit with the smell of something or other that her mother was concocting. Smelled like onions and chicken frying.

Logan took a very deep long breath, and his eyes became distant. But James was still looking at her.

Her mom must have heard her come in, because she poked her head around the corner and smiled at them.

"Almost ready!" she sang happily. "Wash your hands!"

Logan had already started moving towards the smell, so Camille assumed he would just wash them in the kitchen. There was only room for two in there though, so she walked down the hall to the bathroom. When she reached the door she turned around, expecting to see James right behind her. He was still standing in the living-room.

"Are you comin'?" she asked him.

He walked quickly towards her, almost as if he had been awaiting the invite.

She walked to the sink, and flipped on the cold water. James sat down on the toilet, waiting for her to finish.

"What were you doing? Back at your apartment?" she asked, squirting some hand-soap into her palm and rubbing them together vigorously.

"I was working on an English paper."

"What about?"

"Um." He took a breath. "_Great Poetic Influences of the Eighteenth Century_."

"Hm. Sounds interesting. How's it going so far?"

"Not very good. I've been working on it like crazy, because it's due next week, but I can't get it right," he sighed.

"Oh. Well, have you asked Logan?"

"Have I asked Logan what?"

"For help."

"No. Why would I do that? He's got other stuff to do."

"Oh."

"She finished rinsing, and switched off the water. She grabbed the hand towel and dried herself off, moving out of the way for James to do the same. He stood up.

"I could help you. I mean, I'm pretty good with English. I could help you out, if you want," she said in a rush.

James brightened considerably. "Really? Would you?"

"Sure! Why not?"

He looked very happy in that moment. "I know your busy with everything. So I just thought... You know, not a lot of people have time to help out at 2J."

"Oh, too bad. I thought that's what family is supposed to do."

"It is. But with everything that's been going on..." James ran a hand through his hair. then he smiled at her, a little weakly. "Thanks Camille. I should have guessed I could count on you."

"You bet you can. For anything, you know." She shrugged modestly.

James examined her face for what seemed like the fiftieth time that evening. "I saw the tear tracks. What happened?"

It took Camille a little while to remember the try-out. "Oh. Just a bad day. One too many people telling me I'm not good enough, not pretty enough, just not as perfect as they had hoped for." Camille sighed and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Well, they're wrong. You are perfect. You couldn't be any more beautiful. Don't you ever listen to them Camille. Don't you ever change for them."

She really hadn't been ready for that. All she could manage was a small whisper that had probably been a thank you.

He smiled at her, and she honestly felt like she could've melted. She was wrapped up in him, and in all that he had just told her.

"Why don't you think... I could get more perfect?"

"You couldn't," he said. "Just don't go thinking your not good enough, because it's their fault for not realizing how amazing you are."

"May I ask where all this is coming from? I mean, not that I'm not grateful and happy and everything, but I think you-"

He pressed his lips firmly onto hers, cutting off her interrogation. She went completely limp. James, James Diamond, was kissing her, in her bathroom, in her apartment, with the water still running.

And she couldn't have picked a better place or time for something like this to happen. You know that feeling, like you think you have it all, like you couldn't be wanting for anything? And then something comes along, and you wonder how you could have lived without him for that long? This felt just like that. So much so, that she wondered if she had just died, of joy or euphoria or something.

He broke off.

"James."

"That's why. That's where it all came from."

"I know. I know, thanks."

"Camille?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I'm sorry. I mean if you didn't want to kiss me. I'm sorry."

"Well, I did, so your off the hook."

"I know, I'm sorr-" he began. Then he just looked at her. "Wait...You actually wanted to?"

"Heck yeah I did! I don't know how I've never noticed you're so gorgeous before!"

He chuckled. "Well, you're pretty darn angelic yourself. Shall we?" he said, bowing gallantly and gesturing to the door.

She kissed him again, longer this time, just savoring every second of it, embedding him in her memory. His smell, and the curves of his lips. Then she broke off, and walked to the door.

"Yup, we shall," she said, enjoying the dazed expression on his face. "After you wash your hands."

"Fine. For you," he said. Camille beamed and walked out. It had all happened in a matter of minutes. Now she got it. When they said at any time your life could change for the better, that a minute was all it took. She believed it now. Thanks to one so beautifully imperfect, she wouldn't have it any other way.

**I may write another Jamille fic, just because I think I'd like to give it another go. But for now, this is it. Review and tell me what you thought! Hate it so much you were throwing up in your mouth the whole time? TELL ME! I need to know! For reference, I know it was rushed, so no need to point that out. XD But what else could I have done better? I need feedback!**

**xoxoxo**

**~Starbucks**


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